


Red Pants Monday

by im_the_hero



Category: BBC Sherlock, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Red Pants Monday, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3318530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_the_hero/pseuds/im_the_hero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I'm jumping on board with Red Pants Monday, but I'm gonna do it with like, all my ships. Every Monday for the foreseeable future, I'll do a red pants snippet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Johnlock

Sherlock wasn't one for naps, he was some sort of creature who ran and excessive amounts of caffeine drinks, and a dangerously low number of sleep hours. Sherlock insist that his transportation (his body) doesn't require rest, and would ramble on about something John learned to tune out because Sherlock is mental. John would force him to eat, but sleep was a lost cause because forcing Sherlock to sleep while John himself is a massive insomniac is like the pot calling the kettle black.

Once the two idiots started dating, they learned things about each other they hadn't known before. Sherlock realized John thumping around of a morning was exercises, John would do jumping jacks, sit ups, push ups, and other things. Sherlock, who is usually in deep thought when John leaves for work, is like an octopus in bed when he does join the shorter man. One arm goes around John's shoulders, one around his waist, and legs woven together. The first few nights, John hardly slept, but as the arrangements went on the nights Sherlock didn't join him felt alien. 

John usually slept in flannel bottoms, but laundry had been pushed off and pushed off because of cases and laziness. So John just slept in his pants. It was nearing midnight when Sherlock joined him from the lab. (John's old room.) John put down his book. Really, he hadn't been waiting on Sherlock, but nights with him doing science in the other room was, dare he say it, cold. The bed was big and empty, their was too much blanket, and John felt like a child sitting in mum and dads bed again.

 

Sherlock's movements were macnichal, first the lab coat was disposed of in its proper basket, then his socks and shoes, followed with his trousers, then shirt. He moved to the dresser and pulled out fresh pants and changed them. He ruffled his hair as he made his way to his lover as said lover marked his place in his book and set it on the night stand. Sherlock placed himself in John's lap, kissing lightly while his hands rested on John's sturdy shoulders. They simply kissed for a while, sharing light touches and small noises.

Sherlock pulled away, eyes full of mischief. "Tell me you're wearing them."

John raised an eyebrow, his lip twitched, wanting to smirk. "Wearing what?"

Sherlock groaned, hands trailing down his lovers torso and stopped when it reached where the blanked was covering him. He paused, looking into John's eyes. Now he's teasing.

"Why don't you find out yourself." John challenged, so Sherlock pulled the blanket away. Sherlock bit his lip and moaned. These were his favorite pare of pants on John. They cupped him perfectly in all the right places, and they were the most perfect shade of red. Sherlock's fingers teased the top of them, wanting to grab hold and yank them down and swallow the man whole. John moved his hands to the small of Sherlock's back, thumbs dipping below the elastic of the pants, pulling them and letting them go and snapping against the pale skin.

Sherlock gasped, hips cant forward in shock. He was hard, how could he not be? John, muscular, beautiful, in his bed wearing red pants, John, was hard as well and teasing and Sherlock loved how easy it was to be like this.

John saw Sherlock's happy smile. John's heart throbbed. Sherlock is truly beautiful, hair unruly, skin flawless, eyes shining. His breath caught. He rolled them over, lips meeting softly, sliding together slowly. Sherlock gasped in delight. John pulled his pants down slowly, nails scraping against skin slowly, making the man below whither. The pants were pulled off, tossed across the room. A seemingly infinite expanse of skin laid before him. Scars peeked out around hip bones and ribs. 

John recounts the first night in bed with Sherlock, kissing, stroking, and licking each scar, both of them a teary mess. John had taken it slow, using only his hands and mouth on his lover, and it was a painfully tender and intimate nigh. A night John finds himself thinking of when his lover is on a case and abstaining from physical contact other than kissing and hand holding.

John was brought out of his thoughts by hands pawing at him, bringing him down for a hard kiss. John responded quickly, slipping his tongue into Sherlock's mouth. What a smart mouth he has, vocally and, well, talently... Is that even a word? Sherlock really is skilled at most everything. His mouth alone is turning John's mind to mush.

"Please," Sherlock sighed against his lips. "I need something." Head thrown back, baring his neck. "Anything."

John latched onto the pale skin, intent on making this spot purple. Sherlock is always very responsive, moaning and squirming. John smirked against the skin, sucking and biting harder to get more of these responses.

John pulled away, the red spot will be purple soon, showing everyone that the only consulting detective in the world was off the market.

John hastily removed the red pants. He was about to toss them away when Sherlock grabbed the wrist attached to the hand that was holding the garment. Sherlock's eyes were gleaming. Oh boy.

"What do you want me to do with them tonight?" John raised an eyebrow. Sherlock's eyes continued to gleam.

"I want you to get me off with your pants." Sherlock brought his mouth next to John's ear. "I want you to rub me off with these cheep cotton undergarments, and ejaculate on them. And every time you wear them, I want you to imagine my come staining them."

John bit his lip and moaned. He was never going to be able to wear these outside the flat again. "I'm going to fuck you so hard," John reached for the table for lube, setting the pants aside for the moment. "That you'll sit funny for days."

Sherlock moaned. This is exactly what he wanted. John's lubed fingers were soon teasing him open, scissoring him open and making sloppy wet noises. Sherlock rolled his hips slowly, enjoying the stretch, John's calloused fingers, the small gasp when Sherlock clenched his asshole around the fingers deliberately. John smacked his hip to tease back.

"Maybe I should test something." John contemplated aloud, crooking his fingers to stimulate the prostrate. "I bet I could make you come just like this. It would take time, but I'm sure it could be done. Want to test?"

Sherlock nodded his head, pressing back against the fingers. John grabbed Sherlock's hand. He guided it to his penis; Sherlock wouldn't be the only one getting pleasure, John made sure of it. Sherlock's strokes were slow and methodical. John press the prostrate again, Sherlock's hand paused a moment, distracted with pleasure.

"Don't get lazy love." John chided. Sherlock's hand resumed shakily. They went slowly, taking time, they had all nigh. (One of John's old war friends had moved to London, John had landed her a job at the Clinic, and was filling in so John could have a bit of vacation.) When Sherlock's rhythm faltered, John knew climax wasn't far off. John grabbed the red pants that had been laying forgotten at his side. His fingers were starting to cramp due to the amount of time they've been thrusting into Sherlock, but it was worth the looks of lustful pleasure Sherlock was giving him.

John brought the red pants to Sherlock's leaking penis and grasped firmly, strokes matching his fingers pace. Sherlock's entire body shuddered, hand moving faster and tightening around John's penis. John's fingers were pressing against Sherlock's prostrate constantly, rubbing gently and endlessly. Sherlock was pushing against him, he was so close. John's red pants were stained dark with pre cum, and he could feel Sherlock clamping down, pulling the fingers inside of him deeper. Sherlock's balls were drawn in, and John knew he was on the edge, waiting to be shoved over.

John's eyes darted from the red pants, to the sweat covered face, to the hole tightening around his fingers. Sherlock cried out from deep in his throat and came harshly, staining the red pants white. John shuddered and moaned, Sherlock's grip tightened as he came on his hand and thigh. They rode out their orgasms, hands slowing and breathing raggedly. As they came down from the high, John used the soiled pants to wiped the cum from Sherlock's hand and thigh, then kissing each knuckle, before tossing the pants towards the hamper. John laid half on Sherlock and half on the bed, playing with a sweat soaked curl. 

Sherlock was looking at him with eyes still dilated. John loved this look, exhausted, sated, blissful, happy, ravish able. John could easily get lost in this look.

Sherlock sighed, throwing an arm around John's waist. "I love Red Pants Monday." He sighed, snuggled close and grabbed the comforter to go to sleep.


	2. Anthea/Molly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's short, this isn't really my strong suit, but I ship this so much I had to do something for it.

Molly had just walked into her flat. Anthea was going to be out late helping Mycroft with a crisis, so she wouldn't be in til well past midnight, or early in the morning. So Molly stripped off her tee, kicked off her trainers, and shucked off her jeans. Molly paraded around in her bra and panties a while, it was her flat, after all, and she wasn't expecting anyone.

Molly walked to the kitchen and rummaged through her cabinets and freezer, finally settling on ice cream. She turned on the telly and sat with her cat, watching crappy soaps and thinking about her girlfriend running around in a well fitting skirt, matching coat, endless legs covered in seer nylon hoes. Molly pressed her legs closed tightly. No sense in getting worked up. Imagining wasn't Molly's strong suit, and having Anthea's body close to her own was much better than anything her mind could ever conjure up. So she put the lid on the ice cream, spoon in the sink, and went to take a bath.

When Anthea moved in, the one thing she insisted on was a massive bath tub, so she got one. It was more or less a Jacuzzi, with massaging jets and temperature settings. Molly hadn't been in the bath long, less than twenty minuets, when she heard the living room door open. She heard a sigh, a bag being tossed down, heels being kicked off. Molly sank down into the water.

"Molly?" Anthea called.

"Bath!" Molly called back, sinking back in. Moments later Anthea walked in. 

Anthea unbuttoned her jacket, then blouse, pushing them off her shoulders and letting them fall to the tile. "Mind if I join?"

Molly smiled, "I insist you join." She watched as her lover unzipped her skirt and let it fall as well. Molly let out a moan. Anthea gave her a quizzical look.

Molly sank down low, only her nose and eyes above water now. **I should have realized when I saw she was wearing a red suit.** Molly mentally scolded. **I'm a sucker for her in red panties. Red anything.**

Anthea smiled. She toyed with the nylon hoes, running her hands up and down her leg a moment, then she tucked her thumbs under, and slowly, teasingly, slid them down and off. Molly moaned, hands running up and down her legs under the water, resisting the urge to touch herself.

Molly rose from the water and crooked a finger at the dark haired brunette. Anthea's smile widened as she stepped forward.

"I love these red panties," Molly said breathily against the woman's ribs. "want to know what I love more than these panties?" Anthea made a little 'Hmm?' sound. "I love to take them off of you." Molly's hands first unclasped the bra, red and lacy to match the panties. The bra was removed and joined the other clothes on the floor, Molly's hands traveled down the tan skin slowly, stopping only a moment to rub and press into protruding hip bones, then to stop again at her panties, red and lacy and glittery and totally in Molly's way. Molly pulled them off slowly, taking in the sight of her lover. Anthea stepped one foot in, flung the panties across the room with the other. Molly moaned again.

"This bath needs to be quick." Anthea said, making her seat Molly's lap. "I need to see how many times I can make you cum before you need to go open the morgue at 6:45 in the morning." Molly agreed.


	3. Mystrade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (I don't know what the weather is like in London but it's COLD and SNOWY where I live [in the U.S.] so that's what's driving this one.)
> 
> (Also, they already canceled school where I live. Thank god graduation date has already been set.)
> 
> They have sex in front of a fire place. :)
> 
> As always, please tell me of details I've missed, and spelling errors! (I apologize for my dyslexia.) Thanks dolls!

Greg kept telling himself how lucky his boyfriend was. He could have work brought right to him, but Greg had to go out and fight the elements. London had gotten thirty one inches of snow in two days, and who in their right mind would go out and murder some one? In this bloody cold ass weather? How inconsiderate. It was an easy murder to solve though, the bloke was still within a five block radius, and so he was easily found.

"Alright listen up all!" Greg yelled above the office chatter. "Weather's gettin' real bad out there, so I'm gonna start sending people home! I'll come talk to ye when I'm ready to start cuttin' ye loose!" Some people clapped and cheered as Greg walked off towards his office to do paperwork. He sent Donovan, Anderson, and a handful of others home. By five he'd sent most everyone home except a handful of office workers. The captured criminal was locked away and guarded by three officers.

"Hey listen you three," Greg walked up to the officers. "You call if anything starts to go down, don't be heroes. I'll have my work mobile on me, but call _only_ if it's an emergency. I'll have someone come relive ye round eleven, and if you need dug out look on the bulletin board, my daughters' numbers are on there. They're looking for a few extra pounds. You lot keep warm. Oh, and their's food in the lounge, I stocked it yesterday." And with that Greg was off.

The snow was coming down pretty hard. Trucks were trying to keep up, plowing and salting, but it was coming down so thick it covered up again almost immediately. Greg hated snow. Shit was bloody pointless. It took him almost twice as long to get home as it typically would. He got stuck behind a salt truck, and even he wasn't stupid enough to try and pass. This was a blessing, a clean road to drive on. Eventually the truck turned and Greg had to fight the snow covered roads again.

Eventually, Greg did make it home. He was shocked that the walkway was covered already, his daughters' had cleared it just this morning. Greg grabbed a shovel and cleared it quickly. Best to do it a little at a time verses all at once. After that was done he put the shovel back and walked in. The house was warm, and it smelled like chocolate. He heard metal against wood in the dining room. Odd. Gregory toed off his shoes and cringed when wet fabric made contact with his feet. Okay, fresh trousers, then investigation. He heard Katharine cuss as he walked up the stairs. Greg walked into his and Mycroft's room and shed his trousers. Revealing red boxers. It was Monday, after all. Greg tossed his work shirt to the floor as well. He grabbed the ugly green sweater he'd had since uni, well worn and soft and thick, and grey sweats. He kicked his clothes in the direction of the hamper on his way back out of the room. 

Greg made his way back down the stairs to see what his kids were doing. Okay, they weren't really kids any more, but they would always be Gregory's babies. Katharine being the oldest, 18, and the ache in his back. The first child is always rough, but she had always pulled him an every which way. She was a blonde whirl wind with blue eyes and A.D.H.D. and dyslexia. She's tall, only a half centimeter taller than Greg, and has an all year tan because she's a life guard during the summer. Lauralie, his youngest, isn't quite as sporadic as her sister. She's 16, blonde, and Greg swears her eyes used to be blue, but they're hazel now. She's shorter than Greg, short enough she occasionally needs a stool to reach things up high. She's a bit wild, like Greg was when he was a teen; dark colors, leather boots and jackets, heavy eye makeup. But she's a real beauty and a hot head. She broke up with her boyfriend recently because he didn't think a woman should be independent. Greg was happy she sold all the animals and pictures. It was also fun to help with. She made quite the sum of money and cleaned her room.

When he walked into the dining room. Mycroft sat cross legged on the floor with the girls, reading directions off to them as the assembled a snow blower.

"Where'd you get the money for this?" Greg looked around the room and saw another sitting not too far away.

"From the garage." Lauralie said as something clicked into place. Mycroft read some directions off the paper and Katharine handed her the piece.

"Myke told us we could use them if put them together and paid for petrol." Katharine said. "Obviously, we're too dumb to put them together alone."

"Correction." Lauralie said, fastening a bolt. " _You're_ too stupid to put it together. I had it just fine until you insisted on helping." Kat made a pouty face.

"Unless it's beauty related, you're rubbish at it sweety." Greg admitted. "That's alright though, we all have our strong points." Greg sat down next to Mycroft and read the directions to Lauralie. 

"How was work love?" Mycroft asked.

"One murder, but he was caught in less than an hour. Sent most everyone home early. Roads were getting worse on my way in." Greg read the next step off. "I may have found them more work digging people out. Left a few guards and desk workers in, just in case somethin' pops up."

Mycroft made a noise of understanding and read off the next to last step. Greg rested his head on Mycroft's shoulder and scooted closed. Kat smiled at them.

"Okay Pops, ready for the last step." Laura said. Greg scrunched his brows together. Laura never caller him 'pops.' So that would explain why Mycroft responded with reading the last instruction. Greg's heat swelled a little. He loved how well the girls took to Mycroft, and how Mycroft was instantly took them under his wing as his own. The whole situation just made Greg love this posh git even more.

"Okay, let's go bundle up." Kat said. "Miss James called first, so let's hit it."

"How many houses you have to do?" Greg asked.

Laura put her hand on her hip. "Well, we've got Miss James, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Mom, Aunt Sam-"

"Uncle Jake, Miss Lawson, Professor Joe, Professor Nathan,-"

"Joanne, Katie, Alexa, and Alyssa's."

"Oh, and Luke's."

"We'll make roughly a hundred and fifty pounds." Lauralie finished. "Assuming we charge ten pounds."

"Only ten?" Mycroft asked. "When I was young I charged more than that."

Katharine smirked. "Well we know we'll get more than ten pounds out of most of them. Miss Lawson always gives double unless she's short that week, and Aunt Same still has Christmas money for us, and Alyssa always gives us a few extra."

"Mom owes us twenty because we took her to see Aunt Lisa in the hospital and we had to take her _everywhere,_ and Joanne lost a bet, so she owes us extra." Laura looked at her watch. "We better pack a few lanterns and get kerosene while we're at it. It's getting dark out."

About twenty minuets later they came down the stairs in thick coats, hats, and scarves. They crammed their feet into boots and loaded things onto the tiny trailer hooked up to Lauralie's car, and were soon out of sight.

"Hope they don't get frostbite or the like." Greg said once the car was out of sight.

"They'll be fine. Smart girls like them." Mycroft grabbed Gregory's hand. "I was thinking baked ziti, salad, and garlic bread for dinner. Perhaps a glass if wine or two."

"I like the way you think darling." Greg let himself be pulled to the kitchen. They worked together easily, getting distracted by each other only occasionally with light touches and kisses. Dinner was just being pulled from the oven when the power went out.

"Fucking serious?" Greg sighed. If power went down here, chances are it's down in the Yard too. He was expecting a call any moment now.

"Don't fret love, power will be back in a moment." Greg could see Mycroft in his mobile's light.

"Not worried about the power, worried the blokes from the Yard will call all in a tizzy." Greg pouted.

"Surly they're more competent then that."

"You know better."

Mycroft's lips tilted in a smirk. "I was just telling you what you wanted to hear."

The lights above flickered and came on. Greg carried the ziti and bread to the dining room, Mycroft close behind with salad and dressings.

"News said it's supposed to get to zero tonight." Mycroft said. "If it weren't for our busy schedules, I'd book a trip for the four of us to go somewhere warm."

"Four?" Greg asked, bite of salad half way to his mouth. "You'd take the girls?"

Mycroft sighed, he rested his head in his hand. "You're lucky you're so attractive. Yes you attractive git, I'd take Katharine and Lauralie. I'm sure they'd enjoy some warm weather and sunshine. It would be inhumane to leave them to fend for themselves in this god forsaken cold. Also, might I add, you'd miss them terribly."

Greg chuckled a little. "I heard no lie in that statement."

"Perhaps next winter we can go somewhere warm." Mycroft thought aloud. "Hawaii is wonderful, very beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you." Greg took the opportunity.

Mycroft's cheeks went pink. He still felt uncomfortable about how his body looked, but Greg's endless compliments and encouragement helps each day.

They ate in relative silence, listening to the wind whistle outside and snow slide off the roof. Greg's toes poked at Mycroft's foot, and by the time they'd ate their fill their feet were tangled together under the table. They cleared the table and stored the left overs in the fridge for the girls.

"I'll join you up stairs as soon as I extinguish the fire in the study." Mycroft said, heading that way.

"You have a fire going?" Greg asked.

"Your deductive skills really need work babe. Yes, I do have a fire going in the study, I'll join you in the bedroom in a moment."

"No, don't put it out!" Greg protested. "Go to the study, I'll join you in a moment!" Greg dashed off before his lover could protest.

Greg went to their room first to grab lube, them the hall closet to grab blankets and pillows. He made his way back to the study and saw Mycroft sitting in the fancy overstuffed leather chair. Greg make the blankets into a sort of nest in front of the fire, setting one off to the side to cover with when they're done. Very cozy and intimate. Greg walked to Mycroft and kissed him slowly, just a press of lips really, reviling in the sigh Mycroft let slip. Greg grabbed him bu the wrist and pulled him to follow.

"I've always wanted to make love in front of a fire." Greg said against his Mycroft's lips. "I thought it was beyond romantic and so sweet."

Mycroft hummed in agreement, moving to kiss Gregory's neck. It was soft and sweet, but it left Greg wanting and needy. He always came undone to Mycroft's soft lips and talented hands. He reached for the black shirt, Greg's shirt, and tugged it free from his jeans.

"Miss me that much today?" Greg's voice was already ragged, Mycroft licking at his neck and shoulder.

Mycroft bit at his shoulder, Greg sighed. (He always had a bit of a biting kink.) "I miss you everyday you have to work. The girls are a joy, but I can't roll around the sheets with them."

Greg's hands were pulling the auburn haired man closer. He needed a good fucking right this moment or he would explode. "You saying you wanked with my shirt on?"

Mycroft pulled Greg's shirt up and off. "Mmm, you could say that."

"Well?" Greg wanted to hear his answer.

"I had quite a lot of fun with this shirt this morning." Mycroft licked at silver fox's collarbone. His voice was teasing now, and Greg was completely at this man's mercy. "I will just let your mind wander with that having been said."

Greg pulled the shirt off his lover. "Fucking tease." Greg hissed, darting to bite and lick and suck at pale freckled skin. "Last month when you were in Germany I fucked myself while smelling the dress shirt you'd left of the bed."

 _Damn, he's so gone._ Mycroft thought to himself.

"I got the box out from under the bed and grabbed that red dildo you love so much." Greg's breath was coming in pants, his pupils blown wide. "I fucked myself so hard my hole hurt the entire day." Greg popped the button on Mycroft's jeans. "Then, when I was sure the girls had gone to bed that night, I went so slow I sobbed with how much I wanted it." He pulled down the zip. "But I held off, because that's what you would do." He pulled the jeans down. "I went at it until you called. When you called I shoved the whole thing inside me, told you I had just cuffed a kidnapper." He snapped the elastic on Mycroft's pants. "That entire conversation, that dildo was against my prostrate just so and I almost came from how dirty the entire situation was, and you, my love, were none the wiser."

Mycroft attacked Greg's lips. Kinky bastard. Oh he would really be sobbing here in a moment. Begging Mycroft to pick up the speed but he'd slow down even more, to an almost stop.

No, they were both too on edge.

"I'll fuck you so hard you'll walk funny for days." Mycroft hissed against his lover's mouth. "Every time you sit down you'll ache and get a little hard because you'll know it wa me who had dome that to you."

"Yes!" Greg choked out. "Please! I need it!"

"Need what?" Mycroft pulled at the sweats.

"I need to be fucked, please!" Greg thrust his hips against the slender hand. "I want to feel you cum in me and-and-" Greg couldn't even form complete thoughts anymore, his mind was so addled with lust.

Mycroft decided to end the cruelty. He pulled the sweats off and saw the infamous red pants, tented and soaked in pre cum.

"I love these red pants." Mycroft hummed. "One day, I want to see you soak the pants with cum. I want them so soak, cum is oozing out of them and your face red and tear stained from teasing and embarrassment."

More pre cum made the wet patch bigger.Greg wanted that now, ached for it. Greg's eyes prickled with tears. It's as he's voice commanded, and it only took orders from Mycroft.

"Yes, please! I want that!" Gregory's voice was almost a sob. "Please, I want to cum in my pants for you!" He gripped at the blanket under him.

Mycroft shed his jeans and pants, putting them outside the blanket nest. He thrust against Greg, driving him mental with love and lust and a desire to make the man above him happy. He was so close. He stroked his penis trough his pants, stroking Mycroft with him.

"Fuck, Mycroft!" Greg's grip tightened. "Please say you're close! I'm about-"

"Cum, love," Mycroft ordered, voice low and ragged. "I want to see you cum in your pants." And like that, Greg was gone, moaning and sobbing, cheeks wet with tears and red. The wet spot grew wider and wider, and Mycroft came on the red pants, panting and whining in his throat. Greg continued to stroke through it.

Greg's hand fell away once they stilled, blissful smile on his mouth, which turned deviant when he brought his hand up to lick Mycroft's cum off of it. Mycroft groaned,slumping down next to his lover. This man is going to be the death of him.

"Not exactly lovemaking, but still hot as fuck." Greg kissed Mycroft quickly. "That was wonderful."

Mycroft smiled. "We'll get to lovemaking later. Let me enjoy having your body close to mine in front of a roaring fire."

"That sounds perfect." Greg stripped away his soiled pants and dropped them outside the nest. Mycroft quickly moved to hover over Greg's spent penis, licking the cold cum off his lover.

"Damn it," Greg sounded breathless again. "give a man some recovery time, will ye? Not as young as you are doll." He pulled Mycroft to lay on him, covering them with a blanket.

"I just couldn't help myself." Mycroft teased. They laid there several hours, the girls came home, went the the kitchen and at. Their voices were muffled, but their steps up the stairs were clearly heard once they were done eating.

Greg kissed Mycroft's head, eyes heavy. They slept peacefully in front of the fire, snow falling outside. Greg's last conscience thought was how he wished it were Saturday, because the thought of going in tomorrow seemed like punishment.


	4. Neville Longbottom/George Weasley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville looks back and kind of realizes how he's changed over the years, and how George Weasley has changed over those years. Hints at history of self harm. (I'm gonna say this on each chapter: Tell me if I've made some sort of an error! Thanks guys!)

Neville had little to no back bone growing up. He looked up to people like the Weasley Twins, who were outgoing and friends with everyone and athletic. They would test their products on Neville, like Canary Creams and Sizzling Sparklers. They liked him, and had his back when people were bullying him. They weren't as bad as Ron and Percy made them out to be.

Neville looked up to Fred and George so much, he developed a bit of a crush. Fourth year he was hanging out with Ginny, helping her with Herbology when he told her about his crush on George. 

_Ginny smiled._

_"I think he'd say yes if you asked him to the ball!" Ginny bounced in her seat, hair flying. Neville almost fell out of his._

_"YOU'RE MENTAL!" Neville yelled. Madam Pince gave him a cold glare. "Sorry! Won't happen again Ma'am!" Ginny was trying to hold in her laughter. "This isn't funny! Ginny please, I need help."_

_Ginny laid her head on the table and took deep calming breaths. When she sat up she ran her fingers through her red hair and sat in thought._

_"You could just ask him out." Ginny said. Neville laid his head on the table now, making a pained sound. "It's simple Neville!"_

_"I think killing the Dark Lord would be easier than this." Neville groaned. "Maybe I'll just let it go. It's just a crush, it'll go away."_

_Ginny gave him a pitying look. "I won't argue with you. But since neither of us have dates, want to go to the ball?"_

**Neville was kind of sad fifth year when George returned with short hair. During dinner he kept sneaking glances, taking mental pictures in his mind for safe keeping.**

**The second week of school the twins came up to him, one on each side.**

**"Hullo Neville!" Fred said, arm around his shoulders.**

**"We were wondering if you'd like-" George began, arm wrapped around his waist.**

**"To test a new product."**

**"Sure, what is it?" Neville answered almost instantly.**

**"Just come up to the seventh year dorms!" George said. "See you after classes!" And the twins swaggered away, leaving Neville to go to Transfiguration. Neville's eyes traveled to George's ass, and he had to force himself to look away so he wouldn't be late for Potion's and have Snape's wrath upon him.**

**He ended up being late, but the thought of hanging out with George later was keeping him from busting into tears.**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**Neville had never had much self-confidence. He had literally none. But invading the Ministry, fighting beside Harry, Hermione, and George, and the others, he felt like he could conquer any fear. When The Order arrived, when Sirius died, the looming war made itself more real. Neville knew where his loyalties were, and he told Harry so, confidently. Apparently George over heard him.**

**"When did you grow a back bone?" George asked, smile tugging at his dirt and blood covered face.**

**Neville ducked his head, hiding his own dirty face, fighting a smile. "When it mattered."**

**George nudged him. "You've always mattered to me Neville, and I'm proud of you." With that he went back to his brothers and sister. Neville felt like his heard would beat out of his chest.**

_Seventh year was rubbish. The Carrow's were having them use first years as targets. Neville refused, and disarmed the Slytherin's who had full intent on inflicting pain on eleven year olds. After that Neville became the Carrow's whipping boy. He protected Ginny when and if she needed it, had Luna's back until she disappeared, helped Cho Chang fight depression and suicide, talked Collin out of running away, and set up a Dorm/Commons Room in the Room of Requirement. Seventh years from each house helped run things and keep things organized; working out sleeping arrangements, setting up a First Aid area, dining area, study groups, and so on._

_The year was going to be over soon. Neville's gran wanted to run from the Wizarding World, leave it all behind. He couldn't though, not when so many people needed him. He told his gran that._

_"You've come so far," she said, tears stinging her eyes when she met with him on a Hogsmeade visit. "You're mom and dad would be so proud, as I am. Please, be safe. I want you to come home at the end of the year."_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_"Neville." Harry said when the painting opened. "How are you doing?"_

_Neville stuck his head through, face beaming even though it was bloody and bruised. "Like hell, I reckon. This is nothin', Seamus is worse off. Hey Al, got a couple more comin' through." Neville helped them up into the passage and into Hogwarts. He told them how he hardly ever sees Snape, and about the Carrow's, who are head of discipline now. They asked about his face._

_"They like punishment, the Carrow's," he pointed to his face._

_"They did that to you?" Hermione sounded taken aback. "Why?"_

_"Today's Dark Art's lesson was practicing the Cruciatus Curse. On first years." Neville informed. "I refused."_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_Neville was limping. The Dark Lord was nearing them. The Castle was in shambles, crumbling to rubble. The Snake was slithering along the ground, Hagrid was-_

_Hagrid was carrying Harry._

_Dead._

_Ginny screamed._

_"Harry Potter-" Voldemort paused. "Is dead! You will now, place your faith, in me! Now is the time to declare yourself! Come forward and join us!... Or die."_

_Lucius called for Draco, who did eventually come forward. Neville didn't care about the Malfoy's anymore. They couldn't bully him._

_No one could bully Neville Longbottom ever again._

_Neville took a few limping steps forward._

_"Well I must say I had hoped for better." The Death Eaters laughed. "And who might you be young man?"_

_Neville licked his lips. "Neville Longbottom." They laughed again. He heard Bellatrix's cackle._

_"Well Neville I'm sure we can find a place for you in our ranks-"_

_"I'd like to say something." Neville interrupted._

_"Well Neville I'm sure we'd all be fascinated to hear what you have to say." Voldemort replied._

_Neville glared. "It doesn't matter that Harry's gone-"_

_"Stand down Neville!" Seamus said._

_"People die eveyday!" Neville turned to look at their army, Dumbledore's Army, and The Order of the Phoenix. "Friends, family... yeah, we lost Harry tonight. He's still with us, in here." He pointed to his heart, his arm hurt so much. He looked at George, who's face was grimy with dirt and blood, clean streaks from tears. His heart ached. "So's Fred. Remus, Tonks. All of them." Neville shook his head. He raised his voice slightly. "He didn't die in vain." He turned back to Tom, who had a shit eating smile. "But you will! Cause you're wrong! Harry's heart did beat for us! For all of us!!" Neville drew Godric's sword form the Sorting Hat. "IT'S NOT OVER!" A movement on Voldemort's left caught his eye._

_Harry was alive!!! He cast a spell at Nagini. Voldemort cast a half dozen spells, all missing. The Order fled back to the Great Hall._

_"WE HAVE TO KILL THE SNAKE." Harry yelled. Neville charged forward._

_"NEVILLE!!" Voldemort shouted, casting him back._

_~~~~~~~_

_It was a blur after that. Ron and Hermione had fallen onto a mound of rubble, Ron cast a spell which had just bounced off. Neville had finally picked himself up and ran, ran towards Nagini. He squared his feet with his shoulders, and cut up with the sword, beheading the serpent, watching it turn to smoke and dust. The smoke looked like damned souls, trying to escape a prison._

~~~~~~~~~

Almost a year after the war Neville was still helping people. Cho still suffered from depression. Every week Neville sends her orange Tiger Lilies, and a letter telling her to keep fighting, that it gets better. Ginny would visit, needing someone who wasn't Harry she could talk to, someone who was their and understands.

Everyday he goes to see George. Ginny had told him about George's attempt at suicide, and it broke Neville's heart. He brought brightly colored flowers from his greenhouse, and would do things. He'd clean, he'd work in the shop, sit with George while he cried, cooked, made sure he bathed and kept his ear wound clean, and check to make sure he wasn't doing something ridiculous like cutting. Neville's been down that road, and it sucks.

One Monday, George got up the desire to come down stairs to the shop. He was in maroon and gold jammies, and his hair a mess. Neville gave him a smile.

"Hungry? Hemione was going to bring a pizza."

"Why do you come here everyday?" George asked. "You're not on my pay roll, you're not related to me, I don't understand why you're here, mate."

Neville game a soft smile. He didn't answer. "You've had customers come in asking if you have certain products. I wrote the good ones down." He handed George the paper. George read it, leaning against the counter.

"Nightmare Nougat? Silent Sparklers? Memory Mallow? The hell is this?" George asked, holding up the paper.

"Ever heard of PTSD?" Neville asked. George shook his head. "Figures. Okay, it's an acronym. Know what that is?" George nodded. "It stands for _Post Traumatic Stress Disorder._ It's a muggle term. It happens when people survive traumatic experiences. People who survived the war? Most of us have PTSD."

"But not you." George said. "Why?"

Neville hauled himself up to sit on the counter. "Well, I guess I can tell you. During the first war my mum and dad were tortured. By Bellatrix. My Gran always made me go visit them in St. Mungo's during Christmas. They never talked, just stared at me with a blank look. I dunno. I guess it just made me stronger, I guess. They were the reason I fought so hard. And, one other person." Neville added at the end, more to himself than anything.

"Who's that other person?" George got this teasing glint in his eyes. "Cho Chang? I notice when you're not doing anything you write to her."

Neville let out a loud laugh. "Me and Cho? You really are a nutter if you think she'd go out with me! I could ask you about Angelina. From what Ron said, she came to see you a lot before the war."

"I won't lie, we had a lovely time together one drunken night. But that's where it ends. She always belonged to Fred, and she found out she was pregnant just before the war with Fred's baby. Told her if she ever needs anything, she can just ask."

A customer came in. Neville greeted them politely.

"So, who's that one person who made you fight hard during the war?" George asked. Neville's nose scrunched.

"Ah, you'll just make fun of me." Neville protested weakly. He can't do this.... George must have been feeling better if he was teasing.

"What? Is it me?" George asked with a laugh. Neville let his head drop, face red with embarrassment.

"Maybe." Neville said quietly, legs swinging childishly.

Things went quiet. Neville just watched his feet swing back and forth.

"Hey, it's cool." George said. He moved to stand right next to Neville. "I always liked you too." Neville laughed. "No really! You were so cute your Fifth Year. All determined and shit. I just wished you'd've looked my way more." Neville laughed again, a self deprecating laugh. "What? You think I'm joking?"

Neville raised his head, fixed his posture. "I looked at you all the time. I wanted to hang out with you all the time, but you didn't see it. You had your own best friend." Neville offered a smile. "It's fine though. Fourth Year, Ginny and I got close, and she gave me all the good dirt on you. Like how you had a massive body pillow and snuggled close to it, and how you sang really badly in the shower. One time she sent me a howler of you singing in the shower. If you actually tried, you could be good. She tried to get me to ask you to the Yule Ball that year."

"Why didn't you?" George asked, his voice thick, expression unreadable.

"No back bone." Neville replied. The person that had come in earlier walked to the counter. He handed Neville a piece of paper, and walked out. Neville handed it to George.

"Cheering Chocolates? That sounds easy enough." George mused to himself.

"Well, if you want to close up, we better do it." Neville hopped off the counter.

"Why close the shop?" 

"Well, if you're going to be making new products, you need another set of hands, and I'm here."

George smirked. "I have other plans." He grabbed Neville by his belt loops. Him mouth close to the other mans ear. "Tell me, what color are your pants?"

Neville's hands gripped the counter. "Really? Now?"

George pulled him close. "Only if you'll let me."

Neville went to lock the door and flip the sign to 'Closed'.

Neville stepped into George's personal space. "If you really must know, find out yourself."

"I will." George growled out, dragging Neville up stairs into his room.

Noses bumped while kissing. Shirts were quickly disposed of. When calloused hands touched uneven skin, George stopped. He looked at Neville, whose body was covered in scars. George felt his throat constrict. What happened at Hogwart's that year?

"If you want to know I'll tell you all about it later." Neville was breathless looking at pale freckled skin. "Don't you want to know what color my pants are?"

"Yes." George's voice was tight with conflicting emotions. He pushed Neville down in the center of the bed gently.

"I'd love to take advantage of you," George said. He took off Neville's shoes and socks off. "Seventh Year I wanted so badly to corrupt your innocence. But we had the D.A., a war to prepare for." He rubbed his thighs. "But at the same time I want to take this slow. Maybe, ah, just a quick wank?"

Neville gnawed at his lip. "I've never done this." 

"What? Wank?" George poked at his ribs.

"Well no! I've done that!" Neville's face went red, down to his collar bone. "This! Been in bed with another bloke! Or anyone, for that matter!"

"We'll take it slow, love." George said. He popped the button and pulled the zipper down. "Lift your hips."

Neville did, face red and hands gripping the sheets tightly. George pulled the denim off slowly, teasing.

"Fucking really? That's an awfully bold color for anyone." George rubbed closer to Neville's groin. "Did Ginny tell you my favorite color is red?"

Neville tried to keep his breathing even. "She, ah, might have mentioned it."

George hummed. His hand moved up more. "They cup you perfectly. My mouth is practically watering. You look good enough to eat."

Neville put his hands on the others sleep pants, and snapped the elastic. The red head squwaked. Neville smirked, tugging the silk fabric slightly, then pulling them down.

"Mmm, do you only go commando when sleeping?" Neville was gaining confidence. "Because if you walk around like this all the time, we may have a problem."

"Really? What sort of problem?"

"I'd be on you all the time, pushing you up against shelves and walls, just to see you squirm. Might drive away customers. Be bad for business." George's hand began teasing the elastic of the red pants. "We may never even leave this flat. I'd have you bent over every surface, begging for release."

George's hand dipped below the elastic band and pulled the pants off. "Oh? So you're a bit dominant?"

"I dunno. Told you I've never done this." Neville said, being completely honest. "I've only ever imagined."

"What have you imagined?"

Red faced again, Neville spluttered for an answer. He went red from his collar bone to the roots of his hair.

"Umm. Maybe we can save that for another time?" Neville felt like the sun was beating down on his face.

The other was having none of that. He draped his body over Neville's like a blanket, mouth close to his ear. "Please, tell me one?"

Neville's breath was a mix of a sigh and a gasp. "F-fine." Neville rolled them to their sides, legs a tangled mess. "You want to know what I imagined? I imagined this. Limbs tangled, bodies pressed close. I'm not very creative. We were at war, I couldn't afford to let my crush on you impair me from protecting people. But when I had a moment to myself, I'd imagine us close like this. And it was enough for me then."

George's eyes were blown wide with lust. "What about now?"

Neville smiled. "Now I feel like if you even touch my penis I'll blow my load."

"You better get a head start then." George advised, pressing their bodies slightly closer. Neville complied, wrapping his hand around the leaking shaft and rubbing his thumb over the head. Neville didn't know what to focus on; the pearly pre cum beading at the head of George's penis, the green eyes, kiss bruised lips, blush dusting along freckled nose and cheeks, his eyes kept darting around.

"I'm not made of glass, don't treat me like I am!" George's hand held the one stroking him. He let out a shuddering breath. "Look, I know this is new for you and you want it to last, but I need to come." He moved his hand to wank Neville's penis. "You're cute when you're aroused. I better be the only person who gets to ruin you like this. You're- ahhh!- uhh, you're just, so, um, d-delicate, and, uhh, pure. I wanted to ruin that Sixth Year. At least I get to now."

Neville's breathing was harsh. His abdominal muscles contracted slightly. He felt his release building. "Yes. Corrupt me. I want it." Neville's hand picked up the pace. "I want it. Every morning, I want your cock in my ass, making me scream because I love it so much."

George bit harshly at Neville's collar bone until it was an angry red color that would be purple in a few hours. "Where did you learn to talk dirty? That's fucking hot."

Neville made a whining noise. "I dunno. But I mean it. I want you to fuck me so hard I limp. I want to be fucked so thoroughly. I want you to come in my arse, then stick your fingers inside me and make me sob because I'm so sensitive."

"Fuck. fuck, fuck, I'm so close. Keep going. Tell me. What do you want to do to me?"

Neville licked his lips. "I want to tie you up and ride you until you come in my ass. Then we'll stay like that until I feel you get hard inside of me all over again. Ahh~! Umm, I ahh, want to fuck you in the shop when it gets slow, risk being caught and making you cum in your pants and stay like that, knowing that I've claimed you. I, uhh. I want to cum in your ass and plug you up, keeping you slicked up and open for me when I'm ready to go again."

George whined, bucking against Neville's hand one last time and cuming in his hand and on the sheets. "You tell me one." Neville brought the cum to his hand to lick clean. He was still hard. George had been so wrapped up in his stories, he'd left Neville hanging.

"I'd tie you up." George began breathlessly. "I'd blindfold you, and lick you open. I'd lick and lick until you cum all over the sheets, sobbing and crying and begging to be fucked. I slick myself up and push in, because I think you'd be a bit of a masochist, and love the feeling of being stretched with only a little preparation. I'd wait until you got hard, and pound in ruthlessly. I'd make you dry orgasm, your breath coming in broken sobs as I cum inside of you, making your areshole sloppy with my cum. You'd call my name the entire time, begging for whatever I'll give you. I'd stick my fingers back inside of you when I'm done and feed it to you. How does that sound?"

Neville couldn't respond. "Please." Was all he could force out.

"Please what?" George asked, stroking faster.

"I-I need-" Neville was a panting mess. "Make-uh, make me cum! I need it!"

"Since you asked so nicely," He said and kissed him, jakking furiously to make him spill his seed.

Neville moaned helplessly, thrusting into the talented hand, then he was gone, body floating on a cloud. 

He must have blacked out. When he opened his eyes George was running his hand through his hair.

George gave him a smile. "I know I'm good with my hands, but damn I've never made someone black out before."

Neville kissed his nose, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around George. "I hope you didn't have plans, because I can go again in about fifteen minuets."

"Mmm, no, no other plans. And Neville?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you, for being so patient with me. And do me a favor?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Wear red pants every Monday?" George kissed along his jaw.

"Hmm. I think that can be arranged." Neville rubbed circles on George's back.

~~~~ end ~~~~


	5. You pick!

**Hey guys! Next week I was gonna do another Harry Potter one, and I thought I'd let you pick! (I'm giving the options though.)**

So, do ya'll want:

Ron/Hermione

Harry/Ginny

Seamus/Dean

Sirius/Remus

Remus/Tonks

Harry/Draco

Minerva/Albus Dumbledore (brOTP) [Like young Minerva asking how one of Albus' dates went and getting all the badass details.]

(New Gen)

Teddy/James

Albus/Scorpius

Teddy/Victoire 

Rose/Scorpius

**Just leave a comment! Or if you have tumblr, message me @im-the-fuckin-hero**


	6. Ron/Hermione, Draco/Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part is a little Romione! I was excited to do this, I love Ron and Hermione so much. The second it a little Drarry, and I had a bit of trouble, because I wasn't quite sure how I wanted to go about it, but I think it turned out well. I did several rough drafts of these, and I think this is what turned out the best!

**Ron/Hermione**

Ron was no morning person. While the kids are away at Hogwarts, he sleeps til noon, drinks pumpkin juice and reads the paper in his pants. He usually had Sundays and Mondays off, brilliant days to sleep in, then run errands in the afternoon while Hermione worked.

This Monday morning, Ron woke to hands rubbing his back, working out knots and kinks from stress and endless work hours. Lips kissed his neck, fingers digging in and working his flesh, reducing Ron to mush. He sighed, relaxed and pliant.

The hands traveled lower to just above the white elastic of his tight red pants. They were soft and faded from excessive wear and washing. Knuckled dug into Ron's lower back, and he jolted. He moaned into the pillow and sighed as the muscles were worked loose, easing tension that had just become normal in his body.

"Poor Ronald." Hermione cooed in his ear in a breathy way. Ron knew what that meant, and he felt his cock twitch. "You work so hard, running around, providing for us and keeping the world safe." She nuzzled just behind his ear, kissing softly.

"Not that I don't love having you here, 'cause I do, but shouldn't you be at work?" Hermione laid her body on top of Ron's, mouth pressing kisses to the side of his neck.

"I took the day off." Hermione moved to lay beside Ron. "We spend so little time together anymore, I thought we could just spend a lazy day in bed." She pressed her mouth to Ron's. "I hope that's quite all right?"

Ron looked at her. She was wearing his favorite blue dress shirt, the collar hanging off one shoulder to reveal the strap of a black lacy bra. His eyes traveled lower to see that she was wearing matching panties. Fuck. Ron was screwed. He licked his lips.

"I'd love to return the favor," he began.

"Later," Hermione's voice was tight. "It feels like it's been ages, I need you now."

Ron groaned. "I want to ruin those black panties. I'll buy you more. Please?"

Hermione put her hands on Ron's face and pulled him into a kiss. "Yes yes yes please do it. I need something now!"

They kissed while Ron's hand moved south, caressing at places that made his wife moan into the kiss. She broke away gasping when his hand finally dipped into her panties, legs spreading wide when Ron got up to kneel above her. He pressed his fingers just above her opening, rubbing in small circles. One of Hermione's hands was gripping the sheets, the other moving to join Ron's hand in her panties. Ron could feel how wet she was already, and he pressed a finger in slowly, loving the velvety feel of her.

Hermione took a minuet finding her voice. "I love how your penis looks in those pants. It looks as massive as it feels when it's rubbing against my clitoris."

Ron pressed another finger in. He loved driving Hermione mad like this, making her lose control she always kept in check. His other fingers were rubbing just outside of her vagina, his other fingers rubbing at the clitoris, feeling it grow. Hermione rolled her hips into his fingers.

"Ronalllld." She drew out his name, voice a little high. "Please Ronald."

Ron pushed the shirt up to reveal her stomach. It was a little pudgy from having two kids, and had visible stretch marks. Ron leaned down to lick at her belly button, stretch marks, hip bones. He loved this woman; she was perfect in every way.

Ron crooked his fingers a little, massaging a slightly rough patch of skin. Hermione's back arched, a breathless cry leaving her mouth, legs spreading impossibly wider. More wetness oozed from her body.

"Oh Ron." Her voice sounded broken with arousal. She put her hands on Ron's shoulders and forced him down into a kiss. One hand dug its nails into his shoulder, sure to leave crescent shaped bruises. The other trailed down pale freckled skin, dipping into tight reddies, and grasped his penis. Ron broke the kiss with a moan. Hermione shoved the pants down just enough to be out of the way.

"I'm bloody close." Ron's voice was ragged, his assault on his wife's G-spot ruthless. "I'm going to ruin these panties, rip them off when it's all said and done. How does that sound? Knowing I can rip off this thin fabric without even trying? Look at them, they're soaked trough."

Hermione's hand sped up. She twisted her fist artfully around the head and moved back down. Ron was damn close. "It's fucking hot, Ronald. I'm ready, push me over. I'm begging!"

Ron pressed against the spot roughly, other fingers rubbing her clitoris, and Hermione came with a loud cry, free hand pressing against Ron's inside of her. Ron's eyes went from her face, scrunched up in orgasmic bliss, to her panties, dripping wet with her release and utterly ruined. He batted her hand away to trust against the wet fabric. Hermione moaned, rolling her hips still. She pushed and pushed against him until he came on her panties and stomach. Hermione moaned loud, still rolling her hips a tad.

Ron kissed her breast where they peaked out from the shirt, her collar bone, her fluttering pulse, and finally Hermione's lips. Ron's hand was still in her panties, his fingers still inside of her. He left his hand, enjoying the intimate press of his hand to her most private parts. Her wild hair was spread around her, eyes half open.

They kissed lazily for a good while, just enjoying each others company. Hermione's stomach growled. Ron let out a small laugh.

"Well, since my beautiful wife took such good care of me, least I could do is make her breakfast in bed." Ron kissed her forehead.

"Oh that can wait." Hermione drew the hand out of her panties, forcing it to cup one of her breast. "I thought you were going to rip these off of me?"

Oh yes, Ronald Weasley loved his wife.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Draco/Harry**

Harry had taken up the Defense Against the Dark Arts class at Hogwarts when he and Ginny separated. He loved her, and she him, but the spark had sadly extinguished, but they sent owls back and forth, fire called when something amazing happened, like James getting an 'O' on a test, when Albus made amazing plays in Quidditch, when Fred's Ghost came to talk to him.

Draco Malfoy still disliked him, fir what reason, Harry didn't know. Once a week, during his plan period, Harry went to the girls toilet to talk to Moaning Myrtle. She didn't really moan anymore, and she always had good gossip on students. For a ghost, they'd become great friends.

"So you remember that Malfoy boy don't you?" She asked when Harry walked in one Monday.

"Scorpius? Yeah, hes a good kid-" Harry said.

Myrtle laughed. "No silly! His dad! The Potions professor!"

Harry raised and eyebrow. "Draco? Of course I remember him. I see him everyday. Why?"

Myrtle giggled. "Oh, well, maybe I shouldn't tell you." Harry rolled his eyes. "I think he's pining after you." She said in a whisper. "He goes into the blokes bathroom next door and has a good wank once a week. Your name always leaving his mouth."

Harry fixed her with a cold glare. "That's not funny. Not at all. I'll see ye around Myrtle." And with that, Harry stormed out of the girls bathroom.

************

Alright, Harry would be lying if he said he'd never wanked to the thought of a guy. Fifth year, a wank session started with images of Cho, and ended with images of Wood. That's fine, whatever, he was a hormonal teen.

But now, in his forties, pale skin and blond hair plagued him, and Harry didn't know how to feel about that. Yes, Draco was attractive, but fantasizing about him now was a tad awkward, if only because he'd never entertained the thought before.

It was Monday, during his plan period again, and it had been a rough Monday. He was teaching the Third years how to fend off Boggarts, and it was awful. Angelina and Fred's son, Fred II, had a massive panic attack when he saw "Angelina's" lifeless body on the stone floor. Harry went straight for the sinks bit stopped when he heard a moan. Then another. It couldn't be-

 _"Potter."_ Okay, so it was Draco. Myrtle hadn't been egging him on. Harry could hear the ragged breathing, the squelching of his hand jakking him off. Then a loud moan and heavy breathing slowing. He'd cum. Harry was frozen in his place. The lock to the stall clicked open and a slightly red face Draco stepped out and locked eyes with Harry.

"How long have you been there?" Draco's voice was tight.

Harry's chest felt tight. Should he lie and say he'd just walked in, or be honest? He decided for half honest.

"Long enough." He answered. Draco's face went red, from either anger or embarrassment.

 **"Expelliarmus!"** Malfoy yelled. Harry was effectively disarmed. He dove in the direction of his wand, hiding behind sinks. Harry saw it on the ground beside a toilet and just dove for it. **"Impedimenta!"** Draco cast the body binding curse. Harry dropped to the floor. Draco kicked him over to lay on his back.

"Listen, Potter, and listen well." Draco's voice was tight, expression blank. "I was ecstatic to hear you and Weasley split, and that you were going to return to Hogwarts to teach. I'll say this once, and only once: I want to fuck you. Their. Now, when I leave, the curse will be lifted and you can move as you like. But what I've said, does not leave this room. If you're up for the best sex of your life, meet me in my office at seven. If not, then I understand." Draco turned towards the exit. "If I'm to be honest, I'd rather have done this in a more, ah, romantic way. You kind of ruined that." And with that, Draco walked away.

Harry soon regained freedom over his body. He laid in thought for some time, contemplating what Draco had said. Then sat up.

"I can't wait that damn long!" Harry yelled to himself, then stood and dashed. He didn't have much time before his next class. And he still had to formulate a plan.

*******

After dinner Draco stops by the bathroom near the Potions lab to wash his hands before he resumes grading papers. He decided he'd grade for an hour, then clean his office a bit before Potter arrives. _If_ he arrives.

He was just about to leave when he ran into someone. He had insults on the tip of his tongue, ready to give a verbal thrashing, when lips sealed over his, tongue licking asking to be let in. He let it, seeing dark hair and glasses when he looks out the corner of his eye, knowing it's Potter.

"Let's skip the foreplay." Malfoy said against insistent lips. He cast a wordless spell to lock the door. "Trousers off, pants too." Harry kicked off his shoes and socks, shucked down his pants. He pulled Malfoy by his belt loops for another kiss, blindly undoing his fly and pushing the trousers down. Malfoy kicked off his shoes and stepped out. Harry pulled away to look at Draco's body and was caught by surprise, seeing him in bright red pants. They look tight to begin with, and tented. Harry dropped to his knees to mouth at the tight reddies, mouth watering. Draco made a pleased noise.

"Surprised?" Draco asked. "Actually love the color red. You?"

"Always wear red pants." Harry's voice sounded breathless. "Looks wonderful on you."

Harry continued to mouth at the fabric, making a darker colored patch with his saliva. Draco hauled him up and spun him round. Harry braced himself on the sinks edge. Draco's lubed fingers at his hole, and thrust one in.

 _Snape in Grandma Longbottom's clothes, Dudley in a tutu, Defensive play number two, garden gnomes._ Harry distracted himself from the burning pain, and it worked well until Draco's fingers glanced across his prostrate. They rubbed at the spot a moment, and Harry wanted to just melt into a pile of goo. Draco removed his fingers carefully, and placed the head of his penis in before his asshole had a chance to close. He moved slowly, listening closely for any sort of noise indicating pain. When Draco was completely inside, he paused, waiting for Harry to get his bearings back.

"Damn," Harry sighed, out of breath. "Slowly, please."

Draco pulled out a little and then thrust back in. He kept his movements slow, enjoying Potter's tight ass swallowing his cock. This is a sight Draco would like to have everyday. He brushed Harry'd prostrate lightly, and Harry would pull him in.

"I'm close," Harry gasped. "So close, faster please. Ah fuuck!"

Draco picked up the pace a fraction, hitting Harry's prostrate a little harder, then he was gone, cum hitting the cement floor, and Draco followed, filling Harry with his.

Harry's knees felt weak. He'd've toppled over if Draco didn't have hold of his waist. Draco pulled out slowly, keeping hold so Harry wouldn't collapse.

Harry looked like he had a comment to make. "Doing anything Saturday?" Draco, still in a daze, shook his head. "Good, we'll go to Hogsmeade. Have a proper date. I'd like to get to know the real Draco Malfoy."

Draco smiled. "Sounds lovely." And kissed Harry, smile prominent on his face.


	7. You pick! (Again!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You guys get to pick again! This is fun, I enjoy this!

**I'm letting you guys pick again! More Harry Potter! I had a real blast with the last one, and thought why not do it again!**

So, do ya'll want:

Harry/Ginny

Seamus/Dean

Sirius/Remus

Remus/Tonks

Percy/Oliver

Minerva/Albus Dumbledore (brOTP) [Like young Minerva asking how one of Albus' dates went and getting all the details.]

(New Gen)

Teddy/James

Albus/Scorpius

Teddy/Victoire

Rose/Scorpius

Just leave a comment! Or if you have tumblr, message me @im-the-fuckin-hero


	8. Albus/Scorpius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this week is Albus/Scorpius! I didn't think I'd get it in on Monday, and I rather it be early than late. (It's also a coming out fic and first time fic!)
> 
> (Criticism is welcomed guys! And comment what you'd like to have the next chapter be!)
> 
> (It'll probably be Harry Potter again. So go back to the previous 'chapter' was and pick from that list.)
> 
> (Doesn't include Albus/Scorpius, since I did that this week.)
> 
> Thanks guys! Y'all are fabulous!

"So yea, the Ministry is trying to legalize same sex marriage," Albus said as he loosened his silver and green tie, he and Scorpius walked through the court yard, enjoying the warm weather. "That's why Lovegood's been covering for my dad, and Abbott for your dad."

Scorpius scrunched his nose. "And she's rubbish at it. I'm only a Fifth Year, and I could teach the class better than that blonde bimbo."

"Well, look who your dad is," Albus shot back. "I love Luna, don't get me wrong, but she's a tad, um, out there." Albus said. "I think I see where Lily gets it."

Scorpius chuckled. "I'm sorry mate, but I can totally hear your sister now, saying _Albus shut your whore ass mouth."_ Albus punched his arm. "What? It was funny that day you were at each others throat."

"She's lucky Neville showed up, I don't even want to think about what I'd've done if he hadn't." Albus sounded sad. Then shrugged. "I still think someone slipped something in my juice that day."

"We'll probably never know. Hey, let's head to the Hall, I'm so hungry I could eat an entire Hippogriff."

Al laughed. "Don't say that too loud. Hagrid might hear you and get upset."

"Right you are." Scorpius replied.

~~~~~~~~

"You never told me how you got sorted into Slytherin." Albus said as they got ready for bed. They were the only Slytherin's that year, and had a whole room to themselves. "That hat was on your head for ages."

Scorpius tensed, ears feeling warm. "I don't know. I asked it how I'd do in each house, and the bloody thing took ages telling me how I'd do. Thought I'd do best here. So I chose Slytherin."

He heard Albus laugh in the tiny bathroom. He took his toothbrush out of his mouth. "Liar. That's not how it happened."

"You weren't sitting there when the hat was talking to me. How would you know if I'm lying?"

Albus spit and rinsed his mouth. "You fix your posture and your ears go red when you lie. We've known each other since we were toddlers, mate."

"You're an ass." Scorpius shot from his bed, only in green cotton bottoms. "Maybe I'm just not comfortable telling anyone."

"Told your dad?" Albus asked, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Nope." Scorpius replied.

"But you tell him everything!"

Scorpius shrugged. "I just didn't tell him."

Albus walked around his bed to the side closest to Scorpius' bed, undoing his belt as he went. "What's the big deal?"

"No big deal," Scorpius snuggled a little deeper in his bed. "Fine, what's the reason you wanted to be in Slytherin."

Now it was Albus' turn to tense. "Same reason you did. Though I'd do best here."

"Lie." Scorpius sing-songed.

"Fine, okay." Albus sighed. "I didn't want to do what was expected of me. I didn't want to go to Gryffindor because I'm not all that brave and I didn't want to be another 'Harry' or 'James'. Not smart enough to be in Ravenclaw, I'm not patient or honest enough to be in Hufflepuff. So, here I am. Now spill."

Scorpius looked over at his best friend. He was being dumb. He needs to be honest.

But being honest was hard when your best mate you have a crush on was wearing tight red pants that made his ass look phenomenal.

Scorpius stared.

"Well are you gonna tell me or not?" Albus asked, digging in his trunk for silver bottoms.

Scorpius shook his head to clear it. "Uh, okay. Honestly?"

"Obviously." Albus stood upright when he found his bottoms and shirt. Scorpius felt like he had cotton in his mouth.

"Well, really. I just wanted to go wherever you went." Albus turned to look at him.

"Really?" He sounded surprised.

"Of fucking course. I just told you. Damn, you weren't kidding when you said you weren't smart."

"HEY!" Albus yell indignantly and threw his pillow at the blond. "But you really mean that?"

Scorpius put the pillow next to his others, intending to use it now. "Why would I lie about that? You're my best mate, I'd be lost without you all the time."

Albus put his clothes in the hamper. "That's awfully sentimental coming from you."

"Well you asked!" Scorpius was still thinking about Al's ass in those pants.

Al smiled that disarming smile, one he naturally inherited from his father. "I did, and I think that's one of the best things I've ever heard." Scorpius raised an eyebrow. "No, really. Once when I was asked to be the Seeker for Quidditch, once when Dad told me he was going to be the new Dark Arts teacher, and this. So, yeah, this here wins over all of them."

They laid down for bed, only the candle between their beds lit. "So you don't think I'm a complete girl?" Scorpius asked, covers pulled to his chin.

"Hell no. It just proves James is even more of an arrogant prick that needs to shut his mouth." Albus smiled. "Hey give me back my pillow."

Scorpius breathed in the smell of Albus lingering on the pillow. Those tight red pants were running rampant through his mind. _I'm about to do a very Gryffindor thing._

"Uh, hey Al." Scorpius began. "I've got a question for you."

Al sighed. "Pillow first? I need at least one or my neck will hurt all day."

The blond laughed and took another quick smell before throwing it back. "Okay, ask your question."

Scorpius laid on his back. "Alright... Ahh, okay. What would you say, hypothetically, if I told you I was into blokes?"

Al was quite a moment. "Well, hypothetically speaking, I wouldn't give a rats ass because you're amazing and any bloke would be lucky to have you." Al paused. "Hypothetically, of course."

"And if it weren't hypothetical?" Scorpius felt like an anvil was crushing his lungs.

"Same would apply." Al said with no hesitation. "So who's the lucky bloke that stole your heart?"

"Ah, uh, no one really." He fiddled with his curtains. "In our year. He's a bit of a tosser really. Kinda pushy. But everyone loves him."

"Is it Zeke?!" Al got all excited. "That would be fucking awesome! You should totally go for it!"

Scorpius barked out a laugh, laughing so hard he was near tears. "Your cousin Zeke? Oh dear lord that's hilarious! Oh-oh Merlin my sides hurt!" Eventually, Scorpius did calm down. "Oh that was bloody great. No, keep guessing."

Albus hummed a few heart beats. "What about Alex Zabini? He's a nice looking bloke, real polite too, nothing like his old man or lady."

"You're so far off. I'll give you a hint. First name begins with 'A'."

"Well, only guys in our year whose names begin with 'A' are Alex, Andrew Cross, Ace Spade, and me. So who is it?"

Scorpius scoffed. "You're my best mate. Narrow it down since you know me so well." Scorpius was confidant that Al would get it wrong. He's a tad oblivious, (okay, extremely oblivious) and so he let Albus have his fun. 

"Alrighty then. You said it wasn't Alex, so we'll cross him out. Let's start with Ace. He's brunette, tall, tan, athletic, and smart. He's nice to everyone, works hard, but in Gryffindor, don't know how you feel about that. And Lily told me once he's bisexual, so that's good for you. But I don't ever see you staring at him, or ever anywhere near him really." Al took a moment to think in his head. "He's out. Okay, Andrew Cross. Red hair, pale, kinda out there like Luna, he's determined, really nice and accepts everyone. He's one of the best Keepers Ravenclaw has had since our parents were in school. But I don't think it's him because he can some times be cocky and he once told a professor to sod off because he got a bad grade in that class." Albus looked at Scorpius, eyes blazing. "Or am I getting this whole thing wrong? It-It couldn't possibly be me." A moment of tense silence. "I'm me, after all. Loser who likes to watch crap muggle telly with his Uncle Percy and help his mum in the kitchen." Albus sounded breathless, or frightened. "Because there's nothing special about me... Nothing that would justify you being into me... Am I wrong?"

Scorpius didn't know if Albus was freaking out because he was wrong, because his best friend who'e practically his brother fancy's him, or if he's excited. Scorpius felt like his mouth was glued shut.

Scorpius took a deep breath. "You're not wrong." It sounded thick, his voice, when the words came out. "It, uh, really came out of nowhere. Third Year I was bonkers about Amilea Krum, and now all I can think about is that one time James went into your room and charred your bed at home and you came and stayed at my house with me in my bed. It was wonderful, and when I saw you in those pants earlier-"

"My pants? Really?" Al didn't sound so fearful now. "Teddy got me these as a gag gift at Christmas. They fit real nice too. So I wear them."

Scorpius tried to prevent himself from doing something stupid like going over to Al's bed and ripping off his bottoms to admire red pants.

"Hey wanna move our beds together?" Al asked, pulling Scorpius from his thoughts that would have soon gotten explicit.

"Wot? Why?"

Al rolled his eyes. "Well, we've known each other forever, and it only seems fit, right?" Scorpius felt his mind short circuit. What? No.

Al took this as a yes. He levitated the night stands, and made it so his and Scorpius' bed made one massive one and crawled under the covers right next to the stunned blond.

Albus' smile was crooked, like he was up to no good. "So, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Scorpius couldn't think. Didn't even dare to breathe. Albus' smile fell a little. "Am I pushing? I'll back off, put the beds-"

Scorpius' brain began to work again, and when it did he realized he was so hard and this handsome guy was ready for anything.

"No no no no! This is fine! It's great! Ah, maybe a quick wank? Before bed?" Albus' evil smile was back.

"I love the way you think."

"One request though," Scorpius said as Al pulled his shirt over his head. "jakk me off with those pants."

Al looked wonderful with messy hair and pupils blown wide. "Really? Red pants really do it for you?"

"Only when they're on you." Scorpius said. "Get a move on, I want to ruin those pants for you forever."

"How would you do that?" Albus had a challenging tone in his voice. Ohhh it was on!

Scorpius took his bottoms and pants off at the same time. He looked Albus hard in the eye. "By cumming on them, of course." He gave himself a slow stroke. "Every time you ware them you'll think about my cum on them, making them a darker red and having stains from where the cum was left to dry." Albus groaned, watching Scorpius stroke himself. "Well don't be a lazy ass. Take your pants off."

Albus flopped on his back to pull his bottoms and pants off, grabbing the red pants.

"Damn, what kind of work outs does Rose make you do?" Rose Weasley has a specific work out for each member of the team, and Al's was doing a world of wonder to the blond's body.

"Could ask you the same Beater." Al's hand moved to join Scorpius', and he instantly knew this was going to be embarrassingly quick. He grabbed Albus' erection and fisted it quickly. "Ah damn this is gonna be short."

"Never had a handjob from another person before?" Scorpius asked, breath short. Al shook his head.

The red pants were grabbed and wrapped around Scorpius' penis, warm and soft, and that was it. Scorpius' hand that was jacking Albus quickened as he came, twisting around the head. He was still shaking when Al came in his hand and on the sheets, gasp and moans falling from their lips.

They slumped on the bed, sweaty and tired with happy smiles. Albus laughed a little.

"That lasted all of thirty seconds." Al said, breathing still labored.

Scorpius grabbed his wand to clean the sheets, but not the pants. "I'm sure we'll get better. But I thought it was mind blowing." He put his wand on the night stand. "I hope you get an erection every time you wear these. And think of me." Scorpius dropped them over the edge of the bed.

"It'll be impossible not to," Albus replied with a yawn. "I'll wear them every Monday if you'd like."

"Yes, I'd like that very much." Scorpius pulled the covers over them. "I've got McGonagall first thing in the morning, so we best go to bed."

"Right, and I've got Abbott." Albus pressed his lips to Scorpius'. "Good night then."

"Good nigh." Scorpius replied, and fell asleep with a smile on his face.


	9. PSA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys. :)

Well guys, when I was thinking of adding to this, I got kind of stuck. Like I'm for real running out of ideas.

I really appreciate you guys reading these, and if you ever want me to add to this just leave a comment. I've kind of lost interest in it, and don't really think I'll pick it back up for a while. But you lot are wonderful and I think I'll continue it eventually.

~Gabriela <3


End file.
